I Forgot To Say I Love You
by conspiracy bug girl
Summary: What will happen when Brennan doesn't say something very important to the one she loves?


**I read a story like this on another forum. I can't remember which it was, who wrote or even the characters it involved. Pretty sure it was m/m pairing. Anyway, I have no idea where to find it but the idea has stuck in my head for about two years. Alas, I decided to write my own version. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones nor do I own the basic storyline. Credit goes to the people it is due to. If this story breaches the rules or is deemed a copy cat I will gladly remove it**

-

Brennan stalked into her office, a large stack of papers balanced precariously on the clip board held in one hand, the other holding a paper to her nose. She was so immersed in her reading that she didn't notice her partner leaning on the bookshelf, arms crossed as he gazed at her affectionately.

"Good reading, Bones?"

Startled, Brennan dropped the contents of her arms, turning wildly to face Booth. Their eyes connected for a moment before she dropped her gaze to her spilled papers and began to pick them up, carefully avoiding looking at him. She wouldn't be drawn into this deceit; she wouldn't be drawn into her mind's lies.

"I'd never realized how many skulls you have," he continued, paying no mind to the fact that Brennan was trying to block out his voice. "We need to get you a hobby."

"You're not here, Booth," she said, eyes coming up to watch the less than corporal man gazing intently at the bones lining her office walls. "You're not real."

"Whatever you say," he replied with a smile. "But keep in mind that your scientific reasoning can't explain everything, Bones."

"You're a product of my imagination," Brennan dumped the papers onto her desk and slumped into her seat. "Nothing more than manifestation of my sleep-deprived mind."

She couldn't help but feel a pang of familiarity as Booth threw himself into the chair opposite her desk, as he'd done on many previous occasions.

"Then, as I have said before, good doctor, maybe you should go home and rest," his eyes crinkled at the edges when he chuckled softly. "But that suggestion is never taken heed to."

"I'm not going to take advice from you," she replied, breaking her gaze away from his. She started to pound her keyboard angrily, unsure of what she was typing or what document she was typing in. "You're not here. You're lying in a coma at the hospital, attached to extensive equipment to keep you alive." With the finally words Brennan struck the enter key with untamed fury.

"No, you're keeping me alive, Bones," he replied softly, all signs of humour leaving his face. Unwillingly, Brennan felt her eyes being drawn to his. A moment of silence past as they looked at each other, chocolate brown meeting icy blue, before Booth moved forward to place his partly-transparent hand on hers. She didn't feel it, of course. All she felt was a slight cool breeze. "You have to let go."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. I know you can."

"No, I can't," she felt tears well in her eyes. "You're going to get better, Seeley."

"I'm dying. You knew that four months ago," he smiled. It a small, sad smile. "My time's up."

"No, it's not. I have to tell you that I love you. You have to come out of it," she pulled her hand out from underneath 'his,' tapping on the keyboard again. Sighing, she whispered, "Otherwise, I can't accept it."

"You have to."

"I can't."

"Then you'll have to put up with me. I'm stuck here, Bones. You're all that's keeping me here and, as a matter of fact, alive."

-

"Zach, could you clean the bones of the first body and lay them out in the correct anatomical positions please?" Brennan said. Stripping off her gloves, she turned to the next body, gasping as she practically walked through Booth, "What are you doing here?" She asked in a low voice. "Go away. Poof off."

"It's not that simple, Bones," he replied, walking around to the other side of the gurney. "Whatcha up to?"

Glancing cautiously around to make sure no one could see or hear her, as it would look like she was talking to thin air; Brennan glared across the skeleton to look at Booth. "You. You can't be here. You're not here."

"If I have to explain this one more time..." Booth said in a mock dangerous tone. "I'm going to starting hitting something," he paused for a moment to re-consider. "Well, I would but, you know, non-corporal."

"I'm working, Booth-"

"You're always working."

"-so I would appreciate if I didn't have apparitions talking to me."

"But I'm bored," he whinged. "You got a better way to pass the time?"

"Go see Parker."

"Just did," Booth frowned for a moment.

"Go find an abandoned house to haunt."

"Ha fucking ha," he said, pulling himself onto the only unoccupied gurney. Crossing his legs, Booth placed his hands behind his back, getting comfortable. "It seems I'll just have to stay here."

"Well, if you're going to stay why don't you do something useful like-" she cut herself off. "No. I'm not going to pretend that you're really here, Booth. You're a figment of my imagination."

Booth smiled slightly, watching fondly as the forensic anthropologist began to, under her breath, reason again with herself that she was simply going mad. That there was no way her catatonic partner could be here, now. But this time there was less conviction in her tone.

She bent back over the skeleton, full intending to ignore the man lounging comfortably behind her. There was almost ten minutes of blessed silence, until she heard a wolf-whistle. Spinning quickly from the body she was trying vainly to examine, she saw Booth looking away serenely, a patent innocent look on his face.

"What?"

Throwing her hands up in the air, she turned back to the gurney.

"You have a nice ass, Bones," he said, a couple moments later. Gasping, she turned to look at her semi-transparent partner.

"What?"

"I'm not solid," he said, with a smirk and a shrug. "Therefore, you can't kick _my_ ass for speaking my mind."

"You're unbelievable," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I know I am, sweetie, but why am I unbelievable?" Angela walked onto the platform, wondering, not for the first time, if her best friend was losing her marbles.

"Ange!" Brennan said, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Nothing! I was talking to ... the cut marks on the body. They're ... unbelievably ... straight."

Booth snorted. Brennan ignored him. "Good answer, Bones. She doesn't suspect a thing."

"Shut it."

"Umm, Bren? I didn't say anything," she Angela, a look of confusion marring her face.

"Shut ... that box over there," Brennan covered badly. "Please."

The artist complied, giving her another strange glance. "Bren, are you okay? Would you like to go home?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Right." Angela dumped her clipboard and pencil onto the gurney where Booth was seated, causing the man to yelp and jump off.

"Yeah, attack the poor, defenceless FBI agent when he can't fight back," he said to the artist, who, of course, couldn't see or hear him.

"I just came to give you the profiles for all four victims." Angela said, handing her friend a stack of files.

"Did you find any connections between the four?"

"Sorry, Bren, they all appear to be unrelated," Angela said, shaking her head. "They must be random killings."

"I disagree. They all have the same occupation," Brennan jumped when Booth's voice appeared at her ear. He was peering over her shoulder to look at the file.

"Don't do that!" she turned to glare at the apparition.

"I was just saying that all four are completely different – age, race, social status ..." Angela said, confused.

"Right. Yes."

"Bones, look, all four of them work at chemists. I'll bet the killer is finding his victims when he goes in to pick up a prescription or buy toilet paper or something," Booth's semi-transparent hand pointed to each of the victim's occupation. Chemist Warehouse, The Pill, Discount Drugstore, The Friends Society. Four different chemists.

"You're right, Booth." Brennan gasped out loud.

"Angela. I'm Angela, sweetie. Not Booth." The artist corrected gently, thinking the comment was directed to her.

"Of course I am, Bones. Ask Angela to cross-reference-" Booth spoke over the top.

"I was think that it might be handy to find out their past jobs-" continued Angela.

"I'll stake my career ... umm, well, the career that I had before I died-"

"A few died very young and haven't had many jobs but-" Angela's voice cut in. Brennan closed her eyes, trying to block out the two different people commenting in her ear.

Booth continued to explain, "I'm positive there'll be the same person on all four chemist's records-"

Brennan wanted to scream.

"Shut up, both of you. Shut up!" Brennan stepped away from the two of them then turned back around to glare. "I can't think with the two of you yabbering in my ear." She pointed to Booth, leaving a very confused Angela to stare at empty air. "You. You're right. Now get lost." She turned her gaze to the artist. "Angela, do what he said."

"Bren," she replied, in a tiny voice, "Bren, there's no one here."

The forensic anthropologist waved her hands frantically at Booth. "Can't you see him?"

"What?"

"Booth! He's standing just there. Why can't you see him?" Brennan said, her voice rising.

"Bones, I think that she'd be slightly more ... what's the word ... vocal," Booth replied, glancing towards a very confused Angela, "if she could see me."

"Temperance, sweetie, Booth isn't here. He's at the hospital, remember? I think you might-"

"Why can't she see you?" Brennan asked Booth, cutting Angela off. Booth looked away studiously before shoving his hands in his pockets. "Why can't she see you, Seeley?"

There was a moment of deafening silence before he spoke up. "She knows I'm not going to come out of the coma. She knows I'm going to die. She's let go."

"No. No. No. No, she doesn't. You're wrong. Angela, tell him he's wrong. She's the one who keeps telling me you're going to live, Booth." The hysterical doctor gestured wildly with her arms, accidentally flinging papers onto the ground. "She's the one who thinks you're going to live."

"She tells you that, Bones, but she doesn't believe it. You can see me because you won't accept the fact that I'm not going to wake up. Angela knows. You need to realize it too."

-

"See, sweetie?" Angela whispered softly, placing her hands on the doctor's shoulder to force her onto the lounge chair. "He was there, at the hospital."

Brennan remembered the sleeping form in the hospital bed, whom she and Angela had just visited.

"He's not at the Jeffersonian, or here. He's in the hospital."

Her eyes flickered to where Booth stood, leaning against the wall, a slight frown barely evident on his face.

"But he's going to wake up. I know it."

Brennan stood up quickly and spun to her best friend. Getting close to her face, the doctor glared at the artist for a long moment before whispering softly. "Don't say that if you don't believe it."

Blonde eyes Angela looked lost for words for a moment. Her mouth hung open in shock, before she muttered something about going to get a coffee then wandered out of the apartment, stumbling slightly.

"That was harsh, Bones," said Booth, pushing away from the wall. "She's just being reassuring."

"I know. But I don't want to hear it."

"You don't want to hear it because you know it's not gunna happen," said the apparition beside her on the lounge, resting his chin in his hands.

"No. Your heart's still beating and you're still breathing ..." She trailed off and thinking about the machines keeping her partner alive. She had quite a bit of knowledge about the types of equipment surrounding Booth at the hospital. They showed that his heart was beating _very _slowly and he was _barely_ breathing.

"I'm not a pro, Bones, and I'm more going by how I'm feeling, but I think that you know what those little monitor beeping things are saying."

It physical hurt Brennan to think about the comparison between the two. It was indescribable. The Booth that was lying in the hospital bed was pale, fragile, broken. The mostly transparent Booth, who was now lounging on the couch, feet on the arm rest, was exactly how he was last time she'd seen him. Clothed in baggy jeans and a t-shirt sporting some form of vintage band Brennan had never heard of, he looked precisely how he had everyday he'd wandered into her office with some case files.

She remembered the fateful night six months ago. She'd been watching re-runs of a ridiculous TV show about three sisters with magic powers, thinking about what she'd said to her partner not a mere 2 hours ago, when the phone had rung.

_"Temperance Brennan?" asked a slightly familiar voice._

_"Yes, that__'s__ me," she replied. Who did that voice belong to? "Can I help you?"_

_"Umm, yeah. My name's Jared." _Why did that voice ring a bell? _"I think you know my brother, Seeley?"_

Though she'd never understood the phrase before, it was as though a light bulb had switched on in her mind. His Brother! _"Yes. He's my partner."_

_"__Do you have any idea why I might find him?"_

_"Well, he was here about 2 hours ago but I haven't seen him since."_

_"Oh. Well we were meant to get together for dinner but he never showed. It's my first time in Washington for a while. Listen, if you hear anything could you give me a call? My number is 0400 367..."_

The next call she received was from the staff of emergency at the local hospital.

It was a month after that occurrence that Booth had started to appear. At first, he was so transparent that Brennan had written it off as a trick of light or her overworked mind, but over time he'd started to grow more and more visible. Eventually, they started talking. Or talking, in Booth's case. Brennan pointedly ignored him.

He'd told her not to let the whole situation eat her up. He'd said she had to let go and allow him to move on. He'd explained why he was there. He'd said he understood and forgave her.

But Brennan had disregarded the entire situation, pretending Booth wasn't there, until one day she caught herself having a serious conversation with the apparition. She'd told herself she simply needed someone to talk to and who better than her supposedly cationic partner? She knew he was only a figment of her imagination and his presence there was simply a sign she was losing her mind. But sometimes, it helped to have some resemblance of normality in her life. Then, slowly, she'd come to partially believe Booth was there. But she didn't give up hope that he'd wake up.

Gradually, over time, he'd become more visible. Now, sitting on the couch before her, Brennan could barely see though Booth anymore. He looked so visible that, for a moment, the forensic anthropologist truly believed that if she were to reach out and touch him he really would be there.

_"I'm not a pro, Bones, and I'm more going by how I'm feeling, but I think that you know what those little monitor beeping things are saying." _

At Booth's words, Brennan slapped her palms onto her pants and stood up, stalking into the bathroom. Slamming the door behind her, she slid to the floor; bring her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry, Bones." Brennan jumped at the voice. Booth was seated on the bathroom counter. "I didn't mean to make you upset, but I need you to face reality. I'm not coming out of this."

"But you have to. I never got to say sorry. I never got to tell you I love you."

"I know, Bones."

"I love you. I love you." She started to sob. "I should have told you. I love you. I'm sorry."

"I know. It's alright, I know. I love you too."

-

It had been a regular day. Regular, that was, until Booth had sauntered over to his partner, fidgeting nervously on the hem of his shirt. Brennan had never seen Booth fidget.

_"Hey, Bones. What's up?"_

_"Nothing, Booth. Everything is decidedly down. I don't see anything that's up."_

_"It's a figure of speech. It's like ... what are you doing__?" he explained._

_"Oh. Nothing really. I was on my way to the diner to grab something for dinner."_

_"Dinner! What a great idea. So maybe you and I could get some dinner together? One day? Together? Food from the dinner, I mean." Realising he'd screwed it up in a big way, Booth accompanied his proposition with a hopeful charm smile. She couldn't resist those, could she! Little did the poor FBI agent know, Brennan had been slowly building up __immunity__ to the __puppy dog-like expression._

_"You and me? Together? As in a date?" Brennan had asked, talking __slowly as it sunk in.__ He wanted to date her? She felt like dancing. _

_"Yeah,__ like a date, Bones. Temperance." H__e amended quickly._

Then it sunk in. No, they couldn't date. It wouldn't work. They were partners, friends and hooking up would create complications. Brennan knew that everyone she dated either got pushed away by her, ran away as fast as they could or ... umm ... died. She couldn't take the chance. She didn't want to lose Booth too. She'd rather they kept their relationship platonic rather than delving into forbidden waters.

_"No. Defiantly not. Uh huh. No way."_

Why had she said that? She could feel her heart break as she had said the words. Booth had looked stunned for moment then asked why. She'd explained it wouldn't work, they were partners, nothing more. Then he'd said the best and the worst possible thing.

_"But ... I love you."_

And Brennan'd whispered that she didn't love him. She could feel her heart break as she had said the words. With all her being, Brennan wanted to run into his arms and tell him the truth but she didn't want to get hurt. Not again. She couldn't deal with that.

_"M__aybe it would be best if we__ didn'__t associate as much out of work,__" Brennan __had __whispered. _

_"Okay. Yeah, that's probably better."_

Then he'd turned and walked away.

She knew she'd hurt him and she wished she could tell the truth. Brennan felt like sobbing.

And she did. She did when she found out she might never get the chance to tell her partner that she did love him.

-

After what seemed like hours seated on the bathroom floor, Brennan had hauled herself up and stumbled into the bedroom, collapsing on the bed. She saw Booth sit on the bed beside her and, though she didn't feel it, could imagine the bed dipping beneath his weight.

"Why am I the only one who can see you?" she asked softly. "Why can't Parker? He still thinks you're going to wake up."

Booth frowned. "I don't really know. If I had to guess, I'd said it had something to do with the stereotypical 'unfinished business.'" At Brennan's confused look, he reiterated. "I mean, there were, hell are still, things we needed to resolve."

"And Parker doesn't have anything like that?"

"No." He started wistfully into the distance. "I wish I could see him so much. I want to say goodbye to him so much." Surprisingly, he started to grin.

"Why are you smiling?" Brennan asked, squinting suspiciously at him.

"I was just wondering if never telling him where I hid his painting equipment counts as unfinished business?" She frowned at this less-than-adapt explanation. Sensing her discontent, Booth explained further. "Parker decided the walls needed a freshening up and took it into his own hands to decorate them. I confiscated the offending paintbrushes and paints before anymore harm could befall my apartment."

"You are depriving that boy of hours of artistic license." Brennan said in a mock aghast voice. "He never got them back?"

"No," Booth said, with a small laugh and a slight shake of the head. "I never got around to telling him where they were and then the accident happened and..." His voice trailed off. Immediately the mood in the room sobered. Sighing, the apparition hopped off the bed and wandered over to a loveseat in the corner. "Get some rest, Bones," he said softly. "You look like hell."

"I _feel_ like hell," she admitted, crawling under the blankets before turning to look at her partner. "Will you be here when I wake up?" she asked in little more than a whisper.

"Without a doubt."

-

Sunlight blared into the room, causing Brennan to lift a hand up to shield her eyes, as she turned to look for Booth. He was seated exactly where he'd been before she'd drifted off, lounging comfortably in the loveseat.

"Sleep well?" he asked with a small smile upon noticing she was awake.

"Yes," she admitted as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. Stretching languidly, she nestled deeper into the comforting warmth of the covers.

Booth stood up from the chair, strolling over to the large window that adorned the wall of her room and allowed the early morning sun to stream in. "It's a beautiful day."

"Yeah," Brennan frowned in concentration. "What day is it?"

"Sunday, Bones," said Booth with a grin. "So that means you aren't going to the Jeffersonian."

"But..."

Booth turned to face her, rolling his eyes and cutting her off. "Can't I spend a day with my favourite forensic anthropologist without having to hang around a skeleton at a museum?"

"But it didn't bother you the last three months ..." her voice trailed off. She looked at the FBI agent that was leaning against the wall and she realised that he was totally visible. "How much time?"

"Not long," he replied, looking back out the window. "Couple hours, tops."

There was a long moment of deafening silence until Booth smiled and walked back to her bed, sliding under the covers.

"And there is no where I'd rather you spend them then here with me, Seeley."

-

They stayed together for hours, talking blissfully about anything and everything until their voice's tapered off into nothingness.

Brennan couldn't feel the bed dipping under Booth's weight, or the hand stroking her hair, but she could feel his presence there with her. It was in that moment, irrevocably, she let go of any doubts that still remained of his existence there with her.

She didn't want that moment to end.

Booth's voice broke the quiet. "Bones, will you promise me something?"

"Anything," she whispered. He sat up and looked into her eyes.

"Promise me you'll move on with your life. I want you to go out into the world, find someone, fall in love with them and live happily ever after."

"I don't think I can," came the strangled reply. Brennan looked away from the chocolate eyes, unable to fully accept what he wanted her to do. She could feel a tear in the corner of her eye and desperately willed it away.

"You have to, Bones. I can't leave this world without knowing you'll be happy," Booth continued fiercely.

"No..."

"Promise me, Bones."

"I..."

"Promise me!"

"I promise, Seeley. I promise." Tears were streaming down her face now, falling onto the bedspread.

"Thanks, Bones," Booth said with a sigh. Gently, he reached out and ran a finger across the palm of her hand. To her surprise, Brennan felt the smallest touch.

"Is it time?" she asked quietly. Off his nod, she looked down to the small wet patch of tears on the bedspread. "I don't want you to leave."

"I don't really want to go either, Bones. It's a one way ticket."

"Are you nervous?" Brennan asked, meeting his eyes again. She noticed something devastating when she looked back. He was fading again. Slowly becoming transparent before her eyes.

"Nervous, excited, scared, amazed ... I think I'm feeling every emotion now," he grinned. They lay for several moments longer, loosing track of time. Brennan clutched Booth's hand as though it was her only lifeline, until she could feel it becoming less and less corporal in her grasp.

"Promise you'll watch over me, Seeley?" Booth just smiled at her and brought his lips to hers, brushing them in the faintest kiss.

"Always, Bones. Always."

-

**Awwww how ... awesome that this is finally finished being written????? No joke, I have had this hidden in the back of my computer since the Stone Ages or something. The date created is, no shit, ****18 ****‎****June****‎****200****7!! It has taken me months to finish this.**

**Review if it's worth it. I love to hear what you think.**


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